DP One-Shot Collection
by SkyeAedus
Summary: A bunch of one-shots, mostly from Phanniemay. These can also be found on Tumblr.
1. Origins

**From the Phanniemay prompt for Origins.**

I am a weapon, and a damn good one at that.

My legend - that detestable tale - states that I am an innocently curious girl created as a pretty thing for the eyes of men. My legend is wrong.

I was designed and created to be a warrior, a new kind of warrior, stronger and more fearsome than any man. I was a success; I was invincible.

Then the very deities who created me took my might from me.

I was too powerful for their liking, even though I was made to do their bidding. They observed my ingenuity when I invented my box to contain the evils of mankind, and they began to fear me.

Rather than doing something reasonable, Zeus struck me down with a lightning bolt. Those cowards hid my existence from man, warping my name into the farce it is today.

But the joke's on them! In their attempt to neutralize the threat I posed, the gods made me stronger than ever before. Ghosts - who had ever heard of such things? - were something the gods could not see from Mount Olympus, as they resided in a realm all their own. We do, rather.

I still carry out my self-appointed duty of protecting mankind from the evils I captured, of course. I would not abandon them that way, the foolish creatures they are.

I have another goal, too, however.

Here in my small kingdom in the dimension of the dead, I await the day the children of the gods finally overthrow them. I rest in standby until those traitors inevitably find themselves at my mercy.

After all, no matter how powerful you are in life, those abilities take time to reclaim in death. I don't plan to give them the chance.

 **Word Count: 293**


	2. Halfa Waltz

**This is from the Phanniemay 2016 prompt "Dance" because I couldn't let that be happy.**

It's endless, this dance.

Wake up for a ghost fight, be late to school because of one of my parents' weapons, fall asleep in class because I can't at home, miss classes and detention for another ghost fight, patrol, come home after curfew, tend to my wounds, sleep for a few hours. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sam and Tucker don't know how many trials I actually face in a day anymore. It's better this way; I don't want to drag them down with me. It's my job, not theirs, to protect this town.

I'm better at stitches than Sam is, nowadays. If I have it my way, she will never know that.

The cycle gets harder each and every day. I think they might catch on soon; there are few explanations for my recent erratic behavior that aren't linked to exhaustion. Well, that or drugs. I'm not a druggie, though, and I hope they realize that much at least.

Acting is always becoming more difficult. Smile. Laugh. Don't trip up.

Don't let them know how you've been thinking lately either. That fight with Spectra last week was no big deal. Long sleeves make sense in winter.

It's not good for me, I know. But it's good for them, so I'll dance the halfa waltz 'til I collapse.

 **Word Count: 216**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Waxing Red

**WARNINGS: blood, possibly death (up for interpretation I guess)**

She had done it. The Ghost Boy was down.

Valerie grinned under her helmet's visor. It had been a long time coming - nearly two years - but the pest was severely injured at her feet. Maybe, a few years ago, she would have felt guilty at the expression of agony on the spook's human-like face, but now she knew better than to believe it.

It's not like he could actually feel pain.

Retracting her hoverboard so she could restrain her ghostly victim, Valerie stepped closer to his twitching form carefully. Then, in one smooth motion, she knelt and took out a pair of ghost-proof handcuffs. But then, she froze.

"What the fuck?"

Dotting the ever-growing puddle of the Ghost Boy's ectoplasmic blood was a familiar crimson. Human blood. What was it doing in Phantom?

But, to her mounting horror, the speckles of red grew more numerous as the spectre's movements died down. Soon, large patches of sanguine liquid replaced the glowing green ectoplasm almost halfway.

And a ring of blue-white light flickered into existence around his waist.

Valerie remembered that ring. She had seen one exactly like it whenever Phantom's 'cousin' switched back and forth between human and ghost. But that would mean…

"No…"

Her eyes widened as Phantom fell still, and the bright ring split in two.

"No, no, no no no!"

And the rest of the ectoplasm gave way to red.

 **Word Count: 234**

 **Remember, I do take requests.**


	4. Amity Park a Nice Place to Live

**OC only because I needed a newbie to Amity Park.**

The small city loomed, somewhat menacing. It was clean, with relatively empty streets, but the effect was haunting instead of pleasant.

"Caitlin!" Mother called impatiently, "Get over here and help me with our bags." She was struggling with a heavy suitcase, Father already inside our new house.

I sighed, "Coming, Mother." I hated this place already. 'A Nice Place to Live,' my ass. Why couldn't my mom take a teaching job somewhere interesting?

A booming crash interrupted my brooding. Mother shrieked, we both spun to face the brick building across the street. Something had become embedded in the stone, dust raining down. An echoed groan reached my ears.

"Aw, man!" A teenage boy's voice complained, "Not cool, Dani!"

A glowing boy, white-haired and green-eyed, floated from the rubble. He was joined by an even smaller girl, who literally appeared out of nowhere. The two could have been twins.

"You're the one who said to go all out during training, Danny." I blinked at the girl's words. They had the same name?

The boy huffed and crossed his arms over the stylistic emblem on his black-suited chest, "Only in the Ghost Zone! Someone could get hurt here."

"You're just mad I caught you by surprise."

"Yep."

Suddenly, the strange pair noticed Mother and I watching them. The boy waved cheerily and both sent us twin smiles. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

I smirked as I took the suitcase from Mother's frozen arms, eyeing the patch of sky the two had abdicated. Maybe Amity Park would turn out to be a nice place to live…

 **Word Count: 268**


	5. An Apology

**A combination of the prompts "An Apology", "Over and Over Again, Until It's Nothing but a Senseless Babble", and "When I am Dead".**

 **WARNINGS: Same as the last chapter.**

The ghost was muttering something.

I paused in my examination of its power center (a solid crystal of blue, ice-like ectoplasm) to scan the creature. It was gasping with lungs it shouldn't even have, unneeded heart beating slowly and pale, cold lips forming a series of words. The thing must not have been aware enough to speak properly.

I put my instruments, a scalpel and a pair of forceps, back down on their tray and leaned over the ghost's face. It was trembling - why did it bother to act? - and I couldn't quite read its lips.

"What are you mumbling about, ghost?" I snapped, noting the slight tensing of its muscles. If it could, I was sure it would have flinched away. Even so, the thing kept soundlessly whispering. How had such a witless creature have evaded us for so long? Truly, it seemed to have a much more human-like intellect in all of our observations.

Jack glowered menacingly down at the spectre, "Hey, ghost! Madds asked you a question."

The ghost paused, swallowing in an obviously fake imitation of human reflex. Then it started back up with its chant, this time audibly. A few quietly hissed S's reached my ears, but I still couldn't quite make out what it was saying so obsessively.

I needed to give the subject some incentive.

Snatching the scalpel back up, I carefully selected a spot and plunged the blade in. The place was perfect, right beneath the stomach and narrowly missing a few would-be vital organs. It sunk into the inexplicably red-green flesh with a wet shink! I twisted sharply, grinning slightly. The ghost wouldn't even know, if my theories were correct, but even if it did I would get some new information.

To my genuine shock, the ghost did notice. It tensed further and strained backwards, dulled green eyes wide. It opened its mouth and let out an unholy shriek.

"I LOVE YOU!"

The words made me freeze, hand still submerged in the subject's frigid ectoplasm. No, a ghost shouldn't be able to feel the physical sensation of pain, let alone a complex emotion like love! It had to be a lie.

But the ghost (had it always looked quite so much like a human child?) continued to speak softly to the silence, "It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you. It's gonna be okay, I will come home, I love you."

I released my hold on the scalpel, leaving it stuck in the ghost's - Phantom's - gut. Was this… his obsession? To find his family, to make sure they were safe?

No, _it._ It was just a ghost. Not a human. It was nothing.

"I-it's gonna be okay," the teenager on the lab table rasped, weak voice beginning to waver.

I bit my lip so hard it bled. I had to remember that no matter how human these disgusting creatures could act, they were just semi-sentient globs of protoplasm. Nothing more, nothing could be less.

But hadn't they once been human?

I let out a shuddering gasp as the thought hit me. Yes, most humanoid spectres must have been normal humans once, right? Did they… Did this boy remember? Did he still love them?

"I w-will com-me home," the child - for that was all he was - stuttered, voice nearly inaudible again.

This was just a kid.

Oh, God, what had we done? What had _I_ done?

If this new theory was true, then all of Phantom's claims might be true. His pleas when we first captured him, so quickly dismissed as lies, were probably genuine the whole time. Hadn't I researched that ghost-controlling sceptre once in college, before the Proto-Portal? And I had captured shape-shifting ghosts in the past. As for the alleged framing, I had seen spirits smart enough…

Had I just cut open an innocent child?

And even further, if those claims were true, what about his heroic acts? Jack and I had always thought he was trying to win the town over, to lull us all into a sense of security just to attack when our guard was down.

But if he was honestly trying to help and protect an entire city of humans, then he was just a kid who had died too early, and who had taken on an incredible responsibility.

This could have been my son. In fact, wasn't his chosen name-

"I love you," He sighed, and a ring of bright blue-white light formed around his bare waist. The ring split in two, sweeping over his body. Familiar clothing appeared, and features changed color. The boy fell still as the lights vanished.

"…Danny?"

Jack's whisper, breathless with disbelief, drove the meaning of what I was seeing home.

The limp figure of one Danny Fenton was sprawled where Phantom had just been. His white shirt was quickly becoming soaked in a horrible deep red, speckled with neon green. It wasn't glowing anymore.

I snapped to awareness and lunged for the drawer where we kept the medical supplies. I grabbed what remained of the bandages and a curved needle for stitches. I didn't wonder where the rest had gone; I'd seen enough of my son's scars to guess.

I was all too aware of the terrifyingly shallow breaths the unconscious boy as I sewed him back together, my hands trembling. I worked through the haze of hot tears. I couldn't let Danny down.

"I'm sorry, baby," I murmured shakily as I finished, "I love you so much, sweetheart, please…" The bandages Jack helped me wind around his wounds were already dotted with blood, but it was slowing dramatically. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign.

Jack suddenly gasped, his ungloved hand resting on Danny's neck, "Madds, his pulse is too slow. I-I think we-"

"NO!" I bellowed, scrambling to find something to help. We couldn't do anything if his heart stopped; his insides were too damaged for the violet movements it would take to restart it. Finding nothing, I scooped my son, slack as a ragdoll, into my arms, "Danny, please wake up! I love you, sweetie, I love you, I love you please I love you-" I repeated the phrase like a prayer until it descended into a nonsensical, chocked babble.

Jack rested a large, gloved hand on my shoulder, prompting me to look up into his eyes. They were brimming with tears. He forced me to let him check again, two bare fingers to our youngest child's slim neck.

A moment, too long, passed before he shook his head.

"I loved him too, but that wasn't enough."

 **Word Count: 1103**

 **I usually don't like making this family suffer quite that much, but this one in particular was fun to write. Maddie realizing all of her mistakes considering ghosts all at once? Best.**

 **Thanks for reading, and have a nice day/evening! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get killed by my mother.**


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